


Ambiance in the Ambulance

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, EMT Hank, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's a lightweight and reckless. Hank's just trying to pay for medical school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambiance in the Ambulance

The sirens blare and the lights flash and Scott’s head is spinning but the adrenaline flooding through him feels like a drug. “Whoa,” he says, trying to focus on the EMT working steadily over him. “What color are you?”

The man pauses momentarily to glance at him. He’s clearly a mutant, with fur sprouting out all over his head and sticking out from under his collar, pointed ears at the top of his head, whiskers—it all does something to reassure Scott. “I’m sorry,” the man says clinically, like he’s rehearsed it, “if my appearance disturbs you, I assure you I am well qualified to help you and if you feel alarmed I can promise you that our interactions will end as soon as you get to the hospital-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Scott interrupts, trying to remember why his head feels so heavy. “No, it’s not… I don’t have a _problem_ with you, I just can’t…” He gestures to his face. “Red glasses. You look kind of purpley or green, I can’t tell.”

The man looks startled. “I’m blue,” he says before resuming his tasks over the gurney Scott’s lying on.

“Blue used to be my favorite color,” Scott muses. “Before…” He gestures to his face again. “You wear it well.”

As if he can’t help himself, the EMT laughs. Quickly, he sobers. “You were very seriously injured,” he reminds his patient.

Scott tries to nod but finds he can’t move his neck. “Yeah, about that,” he says, “I don’t… remember what happened to me.”

“Damn,” he says. “It’s fine, you’re… shit, I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

“I’m not fine?”

“No, it’s…” He groans. “See, because if I tell you, as an EMT, that you’re going to be fine and then you die your family can sue me and the hospital and… it’s a big mess. It’s horrible. But I have to pay the med school fees.”

Scott smiles, continuing to lose track of where he is or what he’s doing. “I appreciate your service,” he tells the blue stranger gravely.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Sure,” Scott says, “you want a phone number to go with it?”

Inwardly, he cheers himself at a brilliantly executed pickup line. The EMT groans again. “I need to ascertain the severity of your head injury. _Can you tell me your name_?”

“Scott Summers,” he says. “And _you_ are?"

“Hank McCoy,” he supplies, hoping it’ll shut him up. “Can you tell me today’s date?”

“Cloudy?” he tries.

“No.”

“Is it Christmas?”

“Are you actually joking right now or are you concussed?”

Scott sighs. “It’s August fourth.”

“ _Thank you.”_

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” Scott says. “What are _you_ doing on August _fifth_?”

But by that time the ambulance reaches the hospital and they begin to unload Scott, who’s still halfheartedly trying to crack jokes and flirt. Once they get him inside the building, Hank leans exhaustedly against the side of the ambulance beside his driver.

“Hey,” he asks in what he hopes is an offhand tone, “what’s the policy on dating patients?” 


End file.
